The New Norm
by meixel
Summary: A shooting leaves Mike grappling and Steve with a new partner. (Inspired by a wonderful drawing by a very talented artist! Rated T for some cursing.)
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own SOSF or anything to do with it. No profits, no how. **

**Thanks to my dear ladies in the group for your kindness and support. A very special thanks to Mchicken for her inspiration. This story was something I wrote for another reason, but hadn't published it on this site. I decided to approach a different angle and have tweaked it some. ...And I can say, it's completely written, proofed and saved on the site, so it should be published with decent frequency. **

**Finally, thanks to the readers who support all of the writers at the site. **

**THE NEW NORM**

**Chapter 1**

Steve grinned devilishly at his partner as he barreled down the quiet side street one early December morning.

"You're driving too fast!" Mike barked.

The younger partner let out a chuckle and then feigned innocence. "My driving is not the problem. You're upset about Brenda."

"Brenda!? Brenda, Connie, Carolyn, Mo! And that's been in the last month! In my day, a couple would not do what you two did..." Mike snapped as he could not conceal his outrage.

"I know, I know, not until they were married..." Steve agreed.

"Not even then. Most married couples wouldn't..." Mike couldn't find the words.

"What?! Hey, how would you know what we did?" Steve was still grinning in amusement.

"When I came by this morning, you answered the door completely out of breath and standing there soaking wet in your robe - and that was after I knocked ten times! And then not two seconds later, I see a young woman - equally soaked - with her arm wrapped around her front and then in her other hand she was holding a lame little wash cloth to cover her back side as she bolted from your bathroom to go back to your bedroom!" Mike said with more disgust than usual. "I know what you did!"

"We were just conserving water," Steve responded cheekily.

"You barely know the girl..." Mike scolded.

"'Barely' being the operative word," Steve cracked. "Besides, I know her from Berkeley."

"Oh you do, do you? What's her last name?" Mike quickly asked.

Steve hesitated. "Off the top of my head, I don't remember exactly. But I met her at a party at one of my old professor's. She's a research assistant and she's related to one of the school's benefactors. She gave me her name and number and we went out."

"And I take it she only gave you her first name?" Mike grilled.

"And her phone number. And she's a classy lady. We saw the SFSO last night after a nice dinner. It was fine."

Mike responded with a glare and Steve felt uncomfortable. "Don't worry, she's not some kook."

"How do you know? You don't even know her full name!"

Mike was fit to be tied. He knew his young partner was a ladies man but there were times when he was convinced that Steve was either a full fledged card carrying hedonist or was simply carrying out a self destructive pattern with women. He wasn't sure which was worse! Perhaps each girl was fun for awhile but just as Mike got used to hearing one girl's name, Steve would come along with another. He didn't even recognize the girl from that morning.

Under his breath and quite seriously, Mike said, "One of these days I hope you'll meet someone who will reel you in..."

It was only then that Steve's smile diminished ever so slightly. Suddenly the radio blared, "_All units, we have a 211 in progress at Gregoria's Deli at 1900 Union. See the man. Suspect may be armed and dangerous"._

"Hey, that's only two blocks away from that last intersection!" Steve calculated.

"Make a right up here and double back. I'll call it in," Mike added, but could not resist one last sideways glance to his malcontent partner.

_Saved by a call, _Steve thought to himself.

* * *

Minutes later, the pair pulled up to a deli. Alfred Gregoria was in front to greet them.

"This punk kid came in and held me up! Can you imagine holding up a deli?" Gregoria barked as he saw the pair approach.

"Was he armed?" Mike asked.

"He said he was - he had something in the pocket of his jacket," Gregoria added.

"What'd he get away with?" Mike asked.

"About $75 in cash and a handful of homemade beef jerky I had on display," Gregoria explained.

"Which way did he go and was he armed?" Steve asked.

The detectives shifted their focus as Gregoria pointed west. "He took off on foot up the street."

Pulling out his notebook, Steve asked, "Can you describe him?"

"Yeah, tall muscular guy with black stringy hair with dark eyes. He had a grey jacket with blue jeans," the shopkeeper responded.

Steve nodded as he took notes. "What else?" Mike probed.

"Well, nothing else except he was carrying a handful of jerky," Gregoria said with a shrug.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Jerky? Well, that should be easy to spot. Perhaps he'll have a trail of strays following him..."

Suddenly the pair heard a scream from across the street and several storefronts away. "What the..." Mike said as he squinted to see a woman standing over something.

"POLICE! Someone help!" she cried again.

"Go up and check that out while I finish here," Mike ordered.

Steve ran up the block until the situation came into full view. A woman who had apparently been walking her dog stood over a body lying sprawled across the sidewalk. He continued reached the victim, then kneeling beside an older woman who was out cold.

"What happened?" he asked the dog walker as he tried to find a pulse.

"It happened so quickly! This man ran up and pulled at her purse. She lost her balance and when she fell, she must have hit her head on the curb."

Steve found a faint pulse as they talked, but was uncertain of what other first aid he could provide. Looking at the closest storefront, he calmly requested, "Miss, can you go into the donut shop and call for an ambulance?"

The woman did as she was told, leaving her golden lab sitting dutifully by the storefront. Steve glanced over to the dog and then back to the victim when he noticed a floral suitcase. He got up and took a look at the tag that had the victim's name an address on it. _Mrs. Bernice Wilson, 2254 Oak Lane, Springfield Ohio_, he noted. Realizing there was a phone number as well, he grabbed his notebook and quickly jotted the information down before returning to his place beside the victim.

"Welcome to the city, Mrs. Wilson," Steve whispered softly as he began to feel the woman for other injuries. He noticed how oddly placed her head was against over the side of the curb and wondered if she had a neck injury. With her arms spread wide, the detective surmised that she had fallen straight back.

A small crowd gathered at the window inside the shop while others kept a safe distance from the detective and the victim on the sidewalk. Steve noticed Mrs. Wilson's eyes flutter. He bent over to where his face was only inches from hers. "Ma'am? Mrs. Wilson?" he inquired as he saw her lips quiver. She groaned lightly.

"Ma'am? I'm a police officer and we've called for an ambulance. It's going to be all right," he said to reassure the woman. He was rewarded with eye contact and a faint smile, then a pained look took over her face. She struggled to take in a couple of gasps before she closed her eyes. Seconds later, she became limp.

"Ma'am?" he inquired a final time, reaching to her neck where he had found a pulse before. It was still. Not willing to give up, he grabbed her wrist, but had no more success. As he laid her arm down, he sensed a presence and looked over his shoulder to find his partner.

Mike didn't need to ask any questions. He knew the woman had died at the scene. Steve looked back at Mrs. Wilson and shook his head. "I have to try."

He reached behind her neck and pulled her gently over to allow her to head, neck and back to rest evenly on the sidewalk. Recalling his recent CPR training, Steve propped her head back, pinched her nose and proceeded to inflate her lungs by exhaling into her mouth. Then he tentatively searched for the place he would strike for cardiac compression and as he clasped one hand over the other made the first pump.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the kind reviews! **

**Chapter 2**

At some point in his training, Steve heard that it was not unusual for the sternum to crack during a resuscitation attempt. He was afraid that necessary evil had occurred from his efforts with Mrs. Wilson. As he counted to five, he then moved back to the woman's mouth and attempted once again to breath life into her body.

After several rotations, Steve heard the ambulance sirens, but kept going. He only stopped when the attendants came to relieve him and transport the woman to the hospital. The young detective leaned back and knew he had to get out of the way, but was surprised when he felt a strong hand tug at his upper arm, guiding him up and away from the situation.

"Hey, Buddy boy, let's give them room to work," Mike said compassionately. He knew his partner had given it his all and was very proud that he tried. Steve nodded back and then as he looked around realized that much had occurred in the few minutes he was focusing on Mrs. Wilson.

Now there were three uniformed officers taking statements from patrons of the donut shop and any other witness on the street, including the young woman and her dog who initially yelled for help.

Steve walked over to the young woman to listen into her account. "He was big and he was running up the hill from down there," she said to the uniformed officer, pointing to the area where Mike and Steve had first responded. "He had long black hair. I remember seeing it swing around as he struggled with the woman," she said as she watched the stretcher file into the ambulance. "That poor dear!"

"Do you remember what he was wearing, Miss?" Steve asked.

"It was a light color, beige, grey maybe?" she answered. "Jeans and boots."

Steve looked over to Mike, "Same guy, no doubt."

"I've already called it in. If the guy is on foot, we'll find him soon. We've shut the area down." Mike then addressed the officer who was taking her statement. "Murphy, who do we have covering the area?"

The veteran cop answered, "We're covering four blocks in each direct, so roughly sixty four squares. It's going to take a bit to cover, though. We've got a couple of units on the north and east sides, each. There are some other guys coming up from the south. West side is still a little light."

Mike looked over at his partner who at the moment was steadily focused on the departing ambulance. "All right, we'll take that area," he answered. "Oh, and Murphy, don't forget to tag the suitcase. It might be the only ID we have for the victim right now."

"Yes, sir," came the dutiful response from the officer.

"Come on, Buddy boy, let's take our part of the area." Mike shot another concerned glance at his partner whose mind was still on the victim. He knew Steve had never performed CPR in the field before and credited him for trying. But the age and the angle of the victim's head and neck gave Mike no cause for optimism. "Steve, do you hear me?" he said one more time while tugging at Steve's elbow.

For a split second, there was nothing and then suddenly Steve returned to the present. "Um, yeah, sure Mike. Let's go."

"I'll drive," Mike announced. "Your young eyes can keep a sharper look."

Steve looked puzzled at his mentor. "Really, Mike. I'm fine."

"Just get in the car," Mike responded not wanting to belabor the point.

* * *

They proceeded to drive west for a few blocks. Steve looked carefully up and down the alleyways while Mike stayed partially focused on driving as well as looking for any signs of the suspect. About five minutes into the exercise, Steve spotted a lone figure in dark alley.

"Hey, that may be him!" he said to his partner.

Mike reached over and flipped the switch on the siren, hoping that the action would create a reaction from the figure as well as signal the situation to other nearby police. At the sound of the siren, the figure turned and then bolted the opposite direction further down the alley.

"I got it!" Steve announced as he barely waited for Mike to stop the car. In a matter of seconds, the young man sprinted after the suspect who moments later ducked into a gangway and away from site. Steve's gun was drawn and he yelled, 'Police, freeze', but to no reaction. Steve continued the chase and two second later, both he and the suspect were out of Mike's line of sight.

"Damn it!" he muttered as he reached for the radio. "Dispatch, this is Inspectors 8-1, we are in pursuit of the suspect near the corner of Filbert and Steiner. Officer is in foot pursuit. Proceed with caution!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

After popping the gumball on the roof, Mike wheeled the car to where he thought the gangway would lead. Sure enough, the suspect came running and crossed a busy Steiner Avenue, carefully dodging the traffic. The senior detective saw his partner running in the rear view mirror and signaled him to follow. With Steve still giving chase, Mike could drive ahead and attempt to box the suspect in.

The man crossed back onto Union and entered another gangway. Mike pulled the car over, confident that the suspect would hit a dead end. He checked to see that Steve was still okay, noting the younger detective trying to negotiate his way safely across Steiner. Redirecting his attention to the suspect, Mike exited the car, pulled his gun and began pursuit himself.

The detective only needed to jog a few steps when he saw that his theory was correct. The gangway hit a dead end. The suspect recognized his predicament and turned to defiantly face his pursuer. With hands in his pocket, he gave the detective an intimidating glare.

"Police, drop your weapon and put your hands up!" Mike hollered.

The man did not comply.

"I said, put your hands up!" Mike repeated as he mentally checked the suspect's appearance to the deli store owner and the dogwalker's descriptions. _Long stringy black hair, a gray jacket, jeans and boots._

The man remained defiant. Mike noticed that his right jacket pocket moved. "I said put your hands up. I won't say it again."

"What are you gonna do, old man? Shoot me?," the man sneered.

"You won't want to find out!" Mike threatened as he watched and questioned whether the suspect was carrying a small handgun in his jacket pocket.

"You don't have the balls..." the suspect leered as Mike saw a jerking movement in the pocket.

"This is your last warning," Mike advised.

"Go to hell!" the man said as he jerked his right hand forward.

Mike fired twice and the perpetrator fell.

The detective stood still for a moment. The worst part of his job was firing his weapon and he hated when people died, no matter how bad the crime. He always reasoned that most of the people he encountered did things foolishly or under the influence, but very few were purely evil.

Steve ran up from behind him, slightly out of breath. "I heard the gunshots. Are you okay?" The young man looked over, but continued down by where the suspect lay.

"Be careful!" Mike called out. "He was about to shoot."

Upon reaching the suspect, Steve answered. "I don't think he's going to be a problem. You got him." Steve looked back at his partner. "And here you said _my_ eyes were sharp," he added with a sly smile.

Mike didn't respond to the quip, but instead walked toward the scene. In the meantime, Steve knelt and began searching the suspect, looking for his gun. His efforts became more frantic as Mike got closer. At the end of his search, Steve leaned back.

"What?" Mike asked.

"There's no weapon!"

* * *

Mike stood speechless with his gun in hand while Steve managed the scene. Since checking the suspect, the younger detective sprinted back to their car and called Murphy and the other black and whites to notify them of the shooting. Upon return, he again checked on Mike, who was in a state of shock and tried to get the older man to go back to the car. Mike shook his head, but declined a verbal response.

Steve returned to the corpse to look for identification. While there was no gun in the jacket, Steve managed to find - not one but - two wallets. Checking the drivers license photo in the first wallet, Steve quickly speculated that the deceased Caucasian dark haired suspect was not the owner. That designation would go to Mr. Jermaine Washington, a thirty five year old black male who was quite likely missing his billfold.

The second wallet belonged to one Louis C. Damon, a man in his early thirties - and at the time of the photo - neatly trimmed black hair. The skin and facial features were undeniably the suspect's.

After further probing, Steve found a floral coin purse with several bills neatly folded and a slip of paper with a phone number inside, as well as a couple of pieces of beef jerky. There was no handbag to be found, but the young detective figured that the purse was discarded somewhere along the way. Looking at the fabric of the coin purse, he saw a similarity to the suitcase Mrs. Wilson had.

Steve returned to his superior and matter-of-factly stated, "Mike, we have him ID'd. His name was Louis C. Damon. He lived a few blocks west of here on Green Street." Steve watched for a reaction, but got none. "Hey, you okay?"

No response. Mike's steel blue eyes were transfixed on the suspect.

"Mike?" Steve asked again. "Hey, look, it's not your fault. The guy was a thief and damn near murdered someone today."

Mike said nothing for several moments and then responded slowly. "He was unarmed. I've never shot a man who was unarmed. I should have..."

"No," Steve interrupted. "You did what you had to do."

"I thought he was carrying his gun in his jacket," Mike said as he shook his head.

"He had his chance, but he chose to run and resist arrest," Steve offered.

Mike would have none of it. "I had him cornered. He wasn't going anywhere."

"Didn't you tell him to drop his weapon?" Steve asked.

"Of course, I did," Mike answered.

"And did he tell you he was unarmed?" Steve asked.

"No, he just said that I didn't have the courage to shoot him," Mike said sadly.

"Mike, c'mon. You did everything you could." Steve tried to be as encouraging possible, although he quickly realized that had the shoe been on the other foot, he would take it hard as well.

"Did you see him? Did you hear anything he or I said?" Mike asked desperately.

Steve stood for a moment and shook his head. "No, Mike, honestly, I came from behind you after it all happened." He quietly looked at his partner. "You know I have your back no matter what."

Mike turned to Steve with a look of disappointment. "I would never ask you to lie for me, Steve."

"That's not what I meant, Mike. I know you gave him every opportunity." Steve shook his head and then spoke quietly. "There's no one I have more faith in than you."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Hours after the shooting, the backstory of Louis C. Damon became known to Mike, Steve and the other officers. Damon was the neighborhood thug and a bully who ran on and off with a dangerous gang for years. Single and unemployed, the hoodlum came from an established family of petty criminals. His father had served time in San Quentin and his grandfather and uncle had also served time in prison. "Look at this," Bill Tanner noted. "Damon's great uncle robbed banks in the twenties and ended up doing time in Alcatraz!"

"Nice family," Inspector Dan Healy commented as he walked over to Bill.

"Yeah, I bet family reunions are no picnic," Inspector Norman Haseejian commented as he poured a new cup of coffee. He and the others continued to listen to Tanner's reading of Damon's rap sheet, which dated back 15 years for various counts of assault, disorderly conduct and petty theft. His longest prison sentence served: six months for assault.

"Sounds like a real charmer," Steve added as he sat perched on his desk. With one look at the file, the detectives could see that Damon's life of crime grew in terms of severity over the most recent years. He would have served more time, but proved to have quite the talent for evading the police. That is until that one December morning.

The bullpen quieted instantly as Captain Rudy Olsen entered the room. Haseejian turned on his heel and took his coffee back to his desk. Steve removed himself from the top of his desk, sat down and stuck a sheet of paper into this typewriter.

"Gentlemen," Rudy said as he made his way to his lieutenant's office. The older man watched the others scramble away from him, mumbling their acknowledgements: "Sir," "Captain" and "Boss". He suppressed a smirk at their reaction, but then shifted his focus to his top concern: Mike.

After tapping on the glass, Rudy walked in and closed the door behind him. Mike saw his boss and swallowed hard. He then quickly glanced to see his men looking in curiously from their desks.

"They staring?" Rudy asked Mike, not wanting to be so obvious by turning around.

"Indeed they are," Mike said as he let out a nervous chuckle. With a deep breath, he added, "I know why you are here."

"I'll bet you do, Mike." Rudy continued with a deep breath of his own. "You okay?" he asked with a concerned look.

"Oh, I've had better days, Rudy," Mike answered truthfully. "It's never easy taking someone down."

"He was a small time hood who apparently blazed quite a trail this morning," Rudy said as he tried to console his most tenured detective.

"It doesn't make it any easier," Mike lamented. "Look, go ahead and get it over with," he barked a bit louder than intended.

"Okay, Mike," Rudy agreed as he stood up straight and took a deep breath. "It's my duty to inform you that due to the events of today, you have been placed on paid administrative leave effective immediately. Internal Affairs will begin its investigation of the shooting." After a brief pause, he added, "I'm sorry, Mike, but it's protocol."

* * *

Mike and Rudy spent the next several minutes discussing the shooting, the pending investigation and what would happen to the department while Mike was on leave. Several minutes later, they reentered the bullpen and were met with looks of anticipation.

"Men, gather 'round," Rudy commanded. He waited several seconds for the Homicide team to convene. Before him, he had Steve, Healy, Hasseejian and Tanner. Officer Sekulovich, while not a detective, worked enough with the group that he also approached the center of the bullpen to take his place alongside the other men. Mike stood behind the Captain.

"As you know," Olsen continued, "when we have an incident like we did today, Internal Affairs leads an investigation. During this investigation, Mike will be placed on leave."

"What?!" Steve blurted. "Mike did nothing wrong!"

Rudy frowned at the young man as Mike calmly intervened. "Buddy boy, it's okay. It's standard procedure."

"But..." Steve started.

"But nothing, Steve. It's okay. I can use the time away," Mike added with a slight, but forced smile.

"If it pans out the way Mike has described, I'm sure he has nothing to worry about," Rudy reassured the group, but his next remark was strictly to Steve. "This is procedure that we go through to prove the department has investigated to the full extent of its abilities and conducted proper due diligence. We must do this, whether we like it or not."

Steve looked down after being chastised. Norm lightly punched him in the shoulder. "Don't worry, kid. It will all be okay."

Olsen smiled at the interaction. "Okay, so effective immediately, Roy Devitt from Robbery has agreed to pitch in to fill the gap with Mike's work. Most of that will be administrative. Haseejian, you have seniority, so you work with Keller..."

"I don't need a baby sitter," Steve mumbled.

Seeking to lighten the mood, the Armenian detective teased as he slugged Steve on the shoulder again, "Now don't you worry. Uncle Norm will take good care of you." Everyone smirked but Steve and Olsen.

Olsen pursed his lips at the interaction and continued. "Tanner, you and Healy will be paired as well. Are there any questions?"

Everyone shook their heads. "Understood, sir," Healy replied.

"All right then," Rudy began as the phone rang on Tanner's desk.

"Excuse me," Tanner said as he grabbed the receiver. "Homicide, Tanner...Oh, yes, Murphy..."

Knowing that Murphy had been the officer in charge earlier in the day, all eyes, including Rudy and Mike's, turned to Tanner. "I see," Tanner replied. "You have the suitcase in lock-up?"

The mention of a suitcase triggered Steve to think of Mrs. Wilson and his efforts to save her. The last he saw her, she had been placed on a stretcher and taken away by the ambulance. He knew the situation wasn't good but still, he hoped and prayed that her visit to the city wouldn't be her last.

"All right, Murphy. I'll tell him. Thanks," Tanner said as he ended the call. Instead of looking at the men, Tanner placed the phone on the hook and looked down.

"What did Murphy have to say?" Olsen asked.

"Well, they got word from the hospital. Mrs. Wilson didn't make it." Tanner looked over to Steve. "I'm sorry, man. I know you gave it your best."

Steve remained quiet. He felt a lump forming in this throat. Could the situation be any worse? The victim died and his partner was about to be investigated for the shooting. Thinking of the ramifications of both situations, he suddenly felt quiet constricted and cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said quietly.

The men looked sympathetically at their youngest coworker. "Sorry, Steve," Healy added.

"Yeah, kid. That's too bad," Haseejian agreed.

Mike said nothing, but looked to his partner with profound sadness. He knew how badly Steve took it when people died. The young man cared deeply; it was one of the reasons that made Mike and the others felt that Steve had so much potential. But there were times when Mike felt that caring could also be the young man's emotional undoing.

While Steve's first instinct was to grab his coat and get away, he instead stood firm. He knew his place was with his colleagues and he needed to stay strong for Mike. He quietly nodded and looked down.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The Internal Affairs investigation was nothing if not thorough. While they methodically plodded through the investigation, Captain Olsen worked with the Chief's office to ensure that there was no public relations fallout from the shooting. While Mike had a very good reputation both within and outside of the department, recent national publicity related to a variety of recent incidences painted a picture of police becoming more militarized. The last thing the department wanted was to add to the increasingly poor relations that police had with the public.

Mike understood the situation and agreed to lay low. It wasn't that he did it with ease - certainly the opposite was true. He spent his first few days catching up on reading, cleaning out his garage and watching old movies. He welcomed off-hours visits from the men, especially Steve. The young man came by after work the first day and also swung by to have lunch with Mike on the second day. Now Mike hadn't heard from his partner in two days and the older man began to worry.

Mike jumped when he heard a knock on the door. Hoping it was his partner, he rushed to answer.

"It's about time you got here, Buddy boy," he said as he opened the door.

Rudy greeted his lieutenant with raised eyebrows. "Expecting someone else, Mike?" he asked.

"No, not really. I just figured that Steve would drop by some point today," Mike answered truthfully. "Come on in, Rudy. You off duty?"

Rudy nodded, entered and took off his overcoat. He and Mike had always been good friends, so there was no pressure between the two, even in such trying times. Rudy relaxed on the couch and waited for Mike.

"Make your self at home while I grab us a beer," Mike said as he walked into the kitchen.

Upon return, he handed his captain a cold bottle and took a place across from Rudy. "So anything new going on?"

"No, Mike. The investigation is still going, but the reaction to the shooting has been quiet, for the most part, at least. Tanner and Healy talked with some of the witnesses including the deli owner, Mr. Gregoria. They also talked to Jermaine Washington..." Rudy began.

"Why does that name sound familiar?" Mike asked.

"Remember that Steve found two wallets on Damon?" Rudy hinted.

"Of course, Washington was the owner of the other wallet," Mike remembered.

"He was apparently at the beginning of Damon's crime spree that morning. What we know so far is that Damon had been out all night - had a real bender going - and was probably high as a kite. We've got toxicology reports due to come back to confirm. At any rate, Damon was wandering the streets when he came upon Washington. It was early in the morning - 6am and Washington was walking to his car. He works across the bay at a factory. Damon approached him, and get this - said he had a gun and that he wanted Washington's dough."

"Did Washington see the gun?" Mike asked.

"He swears he did," Rudy answered.

"Is he sure?" Mike asked.

"Well, yes and no. Apparently Damon had something in his pocket and Washington got a partial look. It was black and could have been a gun."

"Or it could have been something else," Mike reasoned.

"Like a wallet or something, yes. But I don't think Washington wanted to push the situation, so he took his word for it. The guy's got three kids and a wife. The last thing he wanted was to have something happen," Olsen answered. "Oh, and don't think Washington was some milquetoast. He used to play offensive line for USC. The guy is taller than you and hundred pounds heavier."

Mike took a sip of his beer and leaned back. "It helps, but then again, it doesn't. Why would anyone take the chances that Damon took if he wasn't armed?"

"Who knows, Mike. Maybe it was the booze or drugs and he was out of his mind. Maybe he was on some weird rampage. Lenny's got some thoughts on that."

"Lenny?" Mike asked.

Rudy answered with a smirk. "He's all over this. He's trying to put together a profile of someone who would boldly take on a business owner, a former football player and a cop," he punctuated the last word by pointing at Mike.

Mike nodded as he envisioned Lenny eagerly investigating what made the late Louis Damon tick. Shaking himself away from that thought, Mike remembered something Rudy said earlier. "Say, you said that reaction to the shooting was quiet, for the most part. Who's been making noise?"

Rudy grimaced at the question. "I can't get anything past you, Mike. Yeah, there's been some noise. Damon's family is raising a ruckus on the streets. They said if one of them goes down, then they'll get two of ours."

"Death threats to the department? What are you doing about that?" Mike asked with deep concern in his voice.

"I think they're bluffing, Mike, but I'm not taking any chances. I sent Haseejian and Keller over to Old Man Damon's place to let him know that we've got our eyes on them."

"Wait a minute," Mike looked disbelievingly at his superior. "You're not taking any chances, but you sent Norm and Steve over there? Alone?"

"Not alone. They were backed up by a show of force. I sent a couple dozen black and whites. Norm has dealt with these characters before and he can speak their language - it went fine. The old man said that while they were angry about the shooting, they didn't want any trouble. Like I said, I don't want to take any chances, so we've got a few units watching them and well..." Rudy began and then stopped.

"Well, what?" Mike asked, still flustered.

"We've got a unit in front of your place."

Mike thundered, "A unit? I don't need that, Rudy! I can take care of myself."

Rudy winced with Mike's response, but then fought back. "I know you _think_ you can take care of yourself, but I'm not going take any chance with my top detective becoming a target as part of some vendetta."

Mike huffed and then began to realize he was in a no win situation. "I can see I have no choice," he began.

"You want your beer back?" Rudy asked cheekily.

"Of course not!" Mike barked and then after a couple of breaths began to calm down. Then a thought entered his mind and a mischievous smirk swept across his face. "So Norm and Steve..." he mentioned curiously. "How's that working out?"

Rudy chuckled. "Well, I'm afraid that your Buddy boy is getting quite the education from Detective Haseejian. He may never be the same..."


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for your continued support!

**Chapter 6**

Hours earlier...

"Well, Kiddo," Norm said as he looked across the table at Bob's Donuts, "we've interviewed everyone who had any dealings with Louis Damon that morning: the victims, the witnesses and we even managed to find a few people he partied with the night before."

Steve nodded as he took a sip of coffee, but then as Norm picked up his fourth donut, he winced a little.

"What?" Norm asked.

Steve shook his head. "I don't know how you do it. I've been riding with you for a couple of days now and I've seen you eat things that even Mike wouldn't touch. You must have a cast iron stomach!"

"Bah! I just eat good home cooking. And look at you: you're only drinking coffee because they don't sell "hot tea" here," Norm added air quotes with a flourish. "You need to eat more that sticks to your ribs. Who would last longer if we had some sort of catastrophe? Not you, skin and bones! I'm telling you that with the way you eat, you will have no endurance!" He ended his rant with a quick wink and a grin. All was good with the good natured detective.

Steve rolled his eyes at the remark and Norm's subsequent expression. "Uncle Norm", as he had called himself on a few occasions in Steve's presence, had indeed taken the young detective under his wing. In the past few days, Steve visited several questionable diners, dives and donut shops. He quickly learned there was method to Norm's madness and that these places were in certain parts of town that Armenian detective routinely worked. Steve realized that Norm maintained a presence around these neighborhoods for professional reasons. Everyone knew his name when he walked into most of the businesses. And with the charm that Steve had to admit Norm possessed, it was as if he were there to hold court.

The night before, the pair hit a couple of bars and met Norm's 'cousin Sammy'. Steve did not believe for a moment that the diminutive cousin was really a blood relative. He strongly suspected that Sammy was probably Norm's connection to horse racing and other questionable ventures. Still, Norm showed much restraint in his conduct and in their off hours, took the time to show Steve how to read a racing forum correctly. There was a lot to learn from Norm - things that Mike would never dare show him - and Steve was open for that. He still missed Mike and was worried about his partner, but the idea of pairing with Norm was intriguing to say the least.

"Okay, so you'll outlast me in the apocalypse. What were you saying about the case?" Steve asked, redirecting the conversation to the original topic.

"Oh, yeah," Norm said with a mouthful of donut. "I said that we've covered most of the bases. But you know what we haven't done?"

"No, what?"

"Re-track the path that Damon took."

"Nah, Murphy and his team searched the alleys and did some dumpster diving," Steve said as he disagreed.

"Yeah, but did they know exactly where he had gone? It might pay for us to retrace, especially since you were in pursuit. Maybe he hid it somewhere along the way - and who knows, maybe he dumped something else," Norm added.

"Like what?"

"Well, if the guy was as high as a kite, he might have had something on him. And perhaps he was straight enough to know that if he was being chased by a cop, he wouldn't want to be caught with drugs."

"Drugs or a gun, perhaps?" Steve added.

"Or a gun. Look, it's a long shot and it's been four days, but if I'm not mistaken, the next trash pick up is tomorrow morning. We can have a stroll through the area where you chased him and see if we can find anything."

* * *

As Steve and Norm began walking the path from where Mrs. Wilson was attacked to where the arrest was made, Steve had a thought. "You know, when Mike and I came upon Damon I didn't see him with anything. So we can assume that anything he had was discarded between the place of the attack and where we first saw him. But since we didn't see him until that point, I can't really attest to the route he took."

"All right then - we'll work smarter and not harder. I like that," Norm declared. "Let's go back to the car and look at a map."

The pair returned to the car and Steve watched as Norm pulled a San Francisco City map from the glove box. The larger detective straightened up and unfolded the map across the hood. "Mrs. Wilson was attacked in front of Bob's Donuts. That store is here..." he said as he pulled out a pen and circled the location.

"Yes, and Mike and I came into contact with Damon here..." Steve added as he pointed to the alley near Filbert and Steiner which was four blocks west of where they were.

"Okay, then let's figure the first path would be from point A to point B - the straightest way. And if we don't find anything else, we'll widen out a bit to where we cover two blocks either way," Norm announced.

"Makes sense to me," Steve added.

The pair walked in companionable silence for the first two blocks, both stopping to look at trash cans, behind boxes and into any nook and cranny they could find. When then got to Filbert and Steiner, Steve shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing. What next?"

"Let's expand it one block out each way and we'll include the alleys," Norm suggested.

Steve agreed with the strategy and roughly thirty minutes after combing through the adjacent alleys, they found a green floral handbag hidden from view behind a couple of crates and covered by a ratty old blanket.

"Bingo!" Steve called out as he recognized the pattern from the suitcase. "This is it!" he announced as he opened up the bag and found papers and some pictures. "This thing is kind of heavy, but I know it's the same bag. There was a coin purse that Damon hung onto - the one we found on him."

Steve pulled out a letter from the purse. "Whatchya got, kid?" Norm asked.

A frown crossed the younger man's face. "It's a utility bill for Mr. and Mrs. Leonard Wilson. 2254 Oak Lane, Springfield OH," Steve read quietly.

"Okay, anything else?" Norm nodded solemnly as he watched Steve continue to dig around the handbag.

"Wait a minute, what's this?" Steve asked himself as he looked into the bag. Just then his eyes widened and he quickly retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket in order to protect the object from his own fingerprints. Seconds later, he pulled out a 38 special from Mrs. Wilson's bag. "Norm, take a look at this. Maybe this is Damon's gun? He stashed it into the purse and hid it until the scene cooled down."

"Maybe not as irrational as we thought?" Norm asked.

"Maybe not," Steve agreed.

Norm looked around the area and made a note where they found the purse and gun. "Let's run these by the lab and see if we can tie this to..."

But before he could finish, Norm was stunned to be hit on the shoulder with a wooden cane. "Ow! What the...?" he began as he looked over to his partner. Steve stood by stunned with a slight smirk on his face. He looked beyond Norm in the direction of an unexpected visitor.

Before them stood a small, seventy-odd year old woman, dressed in black and holding her cane defiantly in her hand.

"Ma'am," Norm began, rather irritated.

"You, what are you doing here?" the old woman said as she questioned the pair. "What are you doing in the alley behind my home? This is my property!"

Norm and Steve stood speechless for a moment until Steve found his voice. "Ma'am, first of all, we're police officers," he said as he opened his suit coat and pulled out his badge. "This is Detective Haseejian and I'm Detective Keller. Sorry to upset you," he said quite sincerely. "But the alley is for public use and we are in the midst of gathering evidence for a murder that occurred not far from here."

"Those crates are mine, young man. You have no right to be snooping through my things," she said as she held up her cane as if to strike him. "Where's your warrant?"

Steve's eyes grew wide. "Ma'am, please put your cane down. While the crates may be yours, this pathway public property. All alleys fall under an easement of sorts, so no warrant is necessary."

Steve's reasoning went nowhere as the older woman turned to the young man and swung her cane in his direction.

Norm caught the cane just before it hit Steve in the shoulder. "Canes are for walking and not for hitting cops!" he scolded the older woman.

"I told you to stop snooping through my things!" she continued, but at least let loose of the cane.

"I understand, ma'am, but please realize that you were very close to assaulting a police officer and I don't think that was your intent," he countered sweetly.

"Hmmph!" she responded.

Norm was not impressing the woman and saw this as a challenge. "Aw c'mon, ma'am - why would such a kind woman such as yourself risk being arrested by an ugly mug like me?" he said with a smile. He then whispered to her, "Don't mind the kid. He's just doing his job."

The woman stared at Norm as he returned the cane to her. She paused for a moment and then blurted, "Oh, just go away! Stay out of this alley and my boxes!" She turned and walked toward the rear entrance of her home.

Steve stared at the woman. "Sorry, ma'am", he said feebly. He knew he was within his rights to look for the items, but was sorry to have created a stressful moment for the woman.

"Disrespectful youth," she mumbled.

Norm grinned at Steve. "C'mon, let's go before you offend her anymore," he whispered.

"Me?" he whined as he gathered the items and began the walk back to the car.

* * *

Albert Damon closed the curtains from his second floor bedroom that overlooked the alley. "Damn pigs," he said to the older woman who had just come into this room. "And damn that Louis. I told that idiot nephew of mine I didn't want any part of his stunts. I'm too damned old for this. This time he went too far and now I got cops snooping everywhere."

"I don't think the police are going to let poor Louis rest in peace until they find something to haul us all away," the older woman fretted.

"Momma, don't worry. I don't want anymore bloodshed," he commented.

"They were so rude to me, Albert - especially that young one. And did you see the big one? He snatched my cane away from me. I thought he was going to hit me!" the older woman said as she sat down. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

Albert simmered as he thought of the events surrounding his nephew's death. Perhaps Louis's two brothers were right: for every one Damon that dies, perhaps they need to make an example of two cops.

"What did they say their names were?" he asked the woman moments later.

The woman dabbed her eyes and responded. "The young one was Keller. The older one was something from the old country, maybe even Middle East. Haussy, Hasseege. Something like that."


	7. Chapter 7

The late afternoon sun was a problem for Steve as he squinted out the passenger side of the front windshield. Realizing he could lower the visor, he did so while he thought about the next steps in the investigation. "When we get to the office, I'll check the registration on the gun. Not that I think it's legally owned, but it will be a start. I'll also send it over to Ballistics to see if it's been shot recently," Steve announced as the pair got back into traffic.

"And I'll tag Mrs. Wilson's bag and its contents for evidence," Norm added as he continued to drive.

"I'm sure her relatives will eventually want it," Steve concluded quietly.

Norm cast a quick glance to his new partner and nodded.

Moments passed and the detective let out a chuckle.

"What?" Steve asked.

"You and that old woman. Boy, you need some schoolin' when it comes to ladies and it don't matter if it's a young girl or an old broad." Norm teased.

"Me? Are you kidding? Her reaction to me was not at all representative of ladies I encounter, who, I might add, have the most discriminating of taste," Steve sniffed.

"Discriminating, my ass," Norm chuckled again. "You know, I've watched you over the past few years. Look, I know you're young and good looking. You spend more than most women do on your clothes and yes, you have plenty of dates, but you know what your problem is?"

"I have a problem? Do tell?" Steve asked, partly amused and party annoyed.

"There are too many women. That's your problem."

"Since when are too many women a problem? Of all the people I would expect to hear _that_ from, the last would be you," Steve accused. "You're beginning to sound like Mike!"

"Ah, but you misunderstand, grasshopper."

"Grasshop..." Steve interrupted in a huff.

Norm continued without missing a beat. "It's not that you have too many women, it's that you have too few dates per woman. In other words, you can't keep one, so you move onto the next. And I can tell you, that's what your real problem is."

"Again, how can that be a problem?" Steve asked.

"Let me ask you something, kiddo. Where do you normally meet the women you date?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "I dunno. Through work, alumni events at Berkeley, friends..."

"Okay, and where do you typically go on your first date?"

"Dinner. Somewhere nice."

"You dress up and she dresses up, right? And you take her somewhere with white table clothes, fancy wine and expensive prices. You play grown-up."

"We play grown-up because we are. What do _you_ do, my I ask?" Steve asked rather annoyed.

"We're not talking about me...yet. So then what happens on the second date?" Norm asked.

"Ah, we usually go to the symphony or to a play...maybe there's something going on at Berkeley." Steve replied almost sheepishly. He started to see where the quizzing was headed.

"You've worn a suit to both dates, right?" Norm asked.

"And by date two, you are probably in a bowling shirt and jeans," Steve surmised.

"Damn straight! And that's my point. When I take out the ladies, we have fun. F-U-N, fun! When was the last time you actually had fun on a date."

Steve was rendered nearly speechless on the last question. "Dates aren't supposed to be 'fun'. You're supposed to be finding out if you're compatible or not."

"Or, if she'll be easy to get into the sack..." Norm added.

Steve chuckled. "That, too..."

Norm shook his head. "That's the whole problem. You have dull, formal dates. What about number three? Is that the date where she either puts out or she's put out?"

"Well, generally by the third date, I can tell that we're not hitting it off," he said as he cleared his throat.

"So, you're going through a formal evaluation process? Man oh man, Kid, what a drag that must be," Norm exclaimed. "Let me tell you want women want, Steve."

"Oh, do tell..." Steve smirked.

"They want to have a fun time. They want laughs - and they want to be comfortable around the guy. And despite all the women's libbing going on right now, you know what else they want?"

"A stud like you?" Steve answered sarcastically.

"You know, chicks dig me..." Norm boasted.

"So I've seen," Steve admitted as he recalled all the women over the last few days who had waved to Norm, stopped him on the street, come by the booth where they were eating... It was a never ending stream.

Norm continued, "But what I'm trying to say is - wise ass - the ladies want a guy that will take care of them. Look, you drive around in a hot sports car wearing tailor made suits with hot chicks on your arm. But you don't give them half a chance and you really don't get to know them. Can you even name the last five you dated?" Norm asked.

"Sure, let's see, well, mostly recently was Brenda. She was last night..." Steve began.

"Stop. Right. There." Norm ordered. "What is Brenda's last name?"

_This again? _Steve thought to himself. "Jones," he blurted out the first name he could think of.

"Bull shit, Steve. Try again!" Norm corrected.

Steve remained silent.

"Okay, no last names. Just give me the first names of the last five girls you dated," Norm requested.

"Well, sure, that was only last month!" Steve teased back. "You know, I get it. I'm too formal with women, but I can cut loose too, you know. Sometimes."

Norm chuckled. "I call bull shit again on you, kiddo. When is the last time you wore blue jeans and a collarless shirt on a date?"

"Oh, I don't know. Never, maybe?" Steve responded indignantly. "If I'm on a date, I want the girl to think I went all out. What's wrong with that?"

"Okay, okay. All out, whatever. But let me ask you this: do you have any friends who are girls?"

"Sure!" Steve answered quickly.

"Who, quick now, name her."

Steve struggled to find an answer.

"Think hard, Kiddo..." Norm pressed.

Suddenly the answer popped in his head. "Jeannie..."

"Mike's daughter? What's she, twelve?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "No, she's legal age now, thank you. And yes, she's a good friend. We went to a 'Niners game. Does that count?"

Norm glanced over and continued to ask questions. "When's the last time you went bowling with a girl?"

Steve sighed but was determined to answer his question. "Jeannie went with Mike and me one time."

"Mike said you're a lousy bowler," Norm added mischievously.

"What does that have to do with anything?!" Steve practically shouted.

"So basically, your love life consists of either dates that are like a job interview with hoity toity women or you are going with Mike and his twelve year old daughter bowling. Ooo, la, la." Norm's teasing was in top form. "Tell you what, after we get back to the station and update the Wilson/Damon case, let's you and I hit the town. You can learn a lot from me!"

"Oh, puh-lease..." Steve remarked.

Norm frowned and looked as though Steve had genuinely hurt his feelings.

"No, really, maybe some other time. I was going to swing by Mike's to see how he's doing," Steve answered contritely.

"You can see Mike first and then we'll hit the town. There are these two dames I know..." Norm began.

"Wait a minute! Are you trying to fix me up?" Steve asked. "Was that what this was all about?!"

Norm smiled. "You'll like them. They're sisters, but one is much younger. She'd be good for you."

Steve glared at Norm for a moment.

"They're a lot of laughs and they're cute. You'll have fun. Try it my way. You might learn something," Norm persisted.


	8. Chapter 8

Time slipped away since my last post! Hope all are having a wonderful Spring (Fall is you are south!). Thank you for your kind support.

**Chapter 8**

Meanwhile...

Rudy and Mike continued to chat, talking about family and specifically Jeannie. The college coed was Rudy's goddaughter and the Captain was nearly as proud of her as her own father.

"I'm assuming Jeannie doesn't know about any of this, right?" Rudy asked as he relaxed on the sofa, fingering the beer label.

"No. I never lie to Jeannie, but...there are a whole slew of things I never told her. She would worry herself crazy if she knew half of it. I can't risk her deciding to come home for a quick visit and get behind in her studies," Mike answered.

"I understand. I feel the same way about my kids. The less they know, the better." The Captain smirked. "Maybe when I retire, I'll write a book," he added.

Mike focused on Rudy to see if he could read something further into that last remark. "Is there something you aren't telling me, Rudy?" Mike asked directly.

"What? Me, no. What are you talking about?" Rudy repositioned.

"Retirement. Have you made any firm decisions yet?"

Rudy sighed. "Well, I do think about it. I've been a cop for over thirty years. My kids are grown and finally living their own lives. Soon, God willing, we'll have grandchildren and maybe that will be the time to make my exit," Rudy thought.

"You've certainly earned it. You and Marge should get some travel in," Mike added as he raised his bottle as a toast.

"You know, Michael, I became an adult during the Great Depression and then I joined the Navy right after Pearl Harbor. I did my duty, came home and joined the force. Never in those years was there even an opportunity to have more than a week off at a time, let alone take a proper vacation. We'd better do that while Marge and I are still young enough to enjoy it," Rudy concluded. "What about you? When does the Great Mike Stone call it a day?"

Mike stared at the floor after hearing the question. "Rudy, my story is quite a bit different. Jeannie is still in college and I'm still that anchor for her. I can't imagine her coming home with me gallivanting elsewhere."

"She could join you wherever you are. Home is where the heart is, after all!" Rudy countered.

"You've been either reading too many greeting cards or watching too many soaps!" Mike smirked.

"What I'm saying is that you could have her join you while you're on holiday. Go to Hawaii, Mexico, Florida - whatever is your fancy. She'd love it and I know she'd be relieved that you are no longer in the line of fire," Rudy said.

"But with Helen gone..." Mike began.

"Helen was a lovely woman and a fine wife and mother for you and Jeannie. I know you miss her everyday. But Mike, maybe it's time you find someone else. Perhaps you'll be able to find a travel companion or someone to spend your golden years."

Mike chuckled. "As the young people say, 'that's not my scene'. Can you see me getting back into the whole dating thing? No sir - those days are well past."

"I'm not saying that you need to hit the singles bars like the youngsters do now. You just need to meet a nice lady - someone that you're attracted to and can be friends with. The rest will come naturally," Rudy suggested.

"Well, thank you, Miss Lonelyheart!" Mike thought for a moment. "Say, why all this interest in my love life anyway? Do you think it's time I call it a day with the department? Do you know something I don't know? It's the investigation, isn't it?" Mike asked in a sudden panic.

"Aw, cool your jets, Mike. Can't two old friends talk about something other than shop? No, I think you have more life in you as far as the job goes. Hell, you're my best man. If I had to handpick a successor, it'd be you. You know that!"

Mike nodded appreciatively. "Then what? There's something more to this."

"Mike, I just worry about you. There's too much stress - and after awhile, it just takes a toll. I know, because I feel it, too."

Mike looked over to his long time friend and could see the fatigue on his face. Rudy continued, "Every move we make, the press is all over us. City Hall is all over us and so is Internal Affairs. We face cold hard calculating killers, jilted lovers who kill out of passion and simple idiots and thugs every day. Some days it's just like the old west - a gun fight in the streets - and after awhile I get tired of it."

"But what if there isn't a gun?" Mike asked quietly, concerned about his current predicament.

"Then they all have a field day! They don't understand the risks we face. If a guy looks like he has a gun, we don't always have the luxury to debate the matter! Sometimes these people are out of their heads, either mentally or emotionally. Sometimes they're loaded to the gills," Rudy growled, "and sometimes they are just hell bent to die. In some cases, death by cop is what they set out to do."

Mike nodded wearily. "We all face it, Rudy. You, me, Roy... We have years of facing risks and danger. It never changes."

Rudy agreed. "It changes, all right. It's become worse and I think you know that. Why, when I think of the next generation coming up," he began. "As a beat cop, the days of neighborhood patrol with a night stick are over. The young guys today - imagine what it will be like for them thirty years from now. Imagine the number of guns they'll be facing!"

Mike nodded again. "I can see Steve and Bill doing what we're doing now - sitting together and having a beer then. What do you think they'll be saying?"

Rudy thought to himself and then chuckled. "They'll be saying, remember those two old farts we used to work for? They're the ones who had it easy!"

Mike laughed and joined in, "Those old coots wouldn't last day in our world now..."

Rudy replied gruffly, "I'm a card carrying coot, that's for sure, but I can take Keller or Tanner to the mat any day. Don't get me wrong, they're good kids, but young people today are too soft."

"That's what we wanted, though, didn't we? So they didn't have to be like us. They have more choices than we did and didn't have to go through hell and back to get them."

"True," Rudy agreed as he heard two car doors slam. He leaned back and moved the curtain to see if Mike had visitors. "Speaking of the youngsters, look who's coming our way."

Mike got up and peered through the window. He smiled when he saw Steve coming up the steps and caught a glimpse of Norm nodding at the cop sitting in the unmarked car guarding Mike's house. Both Steve and Norm were relaxed and smiling. It warmed Mike's heart to see the pair, especially his young partner. He walked over to the door and opened it, greeting both men as they continued their way up to the top steps of Mike's walkway.

"Do these steps ever end?" Norm muttered under his breath several feet behind Steve.

"Welcome, welcome," Mike greeted as he stood in the doorway.

Just then a dark older model Chevy came roaring down De Haro Street. On the passenger side, the window lowered and all that Mike saw as a gun. The next few minutes played out like eternity as Mike heard the gun shots and watched his colleagues hit the ground.


	9. Chapter 9

**a/n - **I wanted to add a note of thanks to especially to those who I've not swapped messages with - for one reason or another. RL is a bear and I don't send out the 'thanks' that I should. I do appreciate the comments and reviews - so a massive thank you for your support. Many of you I've 'known' for years - and I thank you. A special call out to the 'newer' friends here: Joan and Sylvia. There are others who post reviews without PM status (or anonymously, I guess) - so to Nans and Smithy, I want to say a big thank you. You've been known to make my day.

Here's a short chapter...

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Mike heard squealing tires and knew immediately that he and his team were in danger. Within a flash, the first gunshot rang out, hitting the exterior wall of his home. A second shot blasted the large plate glass window in the front room. "GET DOWN!" he yelled to Steve and Norm, although the damage simultaneously played out in front of him without regard.

"What the...?" Rudy yelled as miniscule shards from the plate glass window flew his way. The sound of a vase falling from a shelf confirmed the bullet's final destination.

A third bullet was more damaging. Steve hadn't had time to take cover when he felt a kick in his lower right side. The impact was hard and caused him to lose his footing. He toppled over the walkway railing that was near Mike's front porch to the terraced landscaping a few feet below.

Norm hit the ground but not before another bullet grazed his left arm. _This is bull shit! _he muttered to himself. As the speeding car passed, Norm raised his head to assess the situation and saw that the officer posted in the unmarked car had already thrown a flashing light onto the vehicle and began pursuit. Norm jumped up and turned to check on Mike and Steve.

"You okay?" Norm yelled.

Mike was posed looking over the railing to his fallen partner. He quickly ducked under the rail and jumped down to the terrace below.

* * *

Steve lay facedown, unmoving in the landscaping as Mike made his way over. Seeing the bloodstain spread across his lower back caused a knot to form in Mike's stomach. "Steve!" he called out.

Rudy came running out on the porch and saw the scene unfold. "I'll call an ambulance," he yelled down as he raced back into the house.

As Mike evaluated Steve's condition, Norm lumbered up the steps to a nearby landing. "How is he?" he asked out of breath as he watched his superior.

"Hit in the back..." Mike said as he check Steve's pulse. "He's out, but his pulse is steady," he added as he turned to face the Armenian detective. "Are you hit?"

Norm shook his head. "I've cut myself worse shaving. I'm fine," he added bravely. "I'll get on the radio and catch up with the pursuit."

Mike nodded his understanding as Norm turned and made an abrupt charge down the steps. "Take good care of the kid," he yelled out as adrenalin was in full control.

Mike watched as the green Galaxy departed De Haro Street. He heard a groan and returned his attention to his partner.

"Steve!" he called out again. Placing his hand on the back of the injured young man. "You've been hit...an ambulance is on its way. Try to not move."

Steve opened his eyes and realized his field of vision included much dirt and grass. Feeling something underneath him that caused increasing pain and discomfort, he began to lift himself up.

"Steve, don't move!" Mike commanded.

"It hurts...underneath." Confused, he added, "Are we at your house?" He moved his arm to help raise himself.

"Steve, now lay still," Mike once again instructed. "I don't know how badly your hurt."

Immediately, Steve groaned louder as he felt a pain shoot up his arm.

"See?" Mike scolded. "You don't listen..."

"But there's something underneath!" Steve exclaimed. With all the strength he could bear, he rolled over onto his side and exhaled. The discomfort abated, but he began breathing hard as he placed pressure on his injured side.

Mike looked at his partner and understood his actions. Underneath the young man was a small crushed rosebush that Jeannie had planted in the spring.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 11**

"I don't want to ride in an ambulance," Steve protested as he grimaced. He had managed to move himself into a sitting position and away from the offending, albeit squashed, rosebush. "Someone can drive me..."

Rudy rushed out with a blanket he pulled from the closest bedroom and dropped it down to Mike who in turn draped it around the young man's shoulders.

"Thanks, Rudy," he responded shakily. The weak response was not lost on Mike or Rudy, who glanced at each other with concern.

Looking around to his partner and captain, Steve asked in a sudden panic, "Where's Norm?"

"He went after them, along with Officer Webster," Rudy answered. Realizing Steve didn't understand who Webster was, he added, "He was in the unmarked car I had parked in front." Wanting to be more effective, Rudy turned quickly to Mike's front door. "I'm going to get on the horn with Dispatch and see what's going on!"

* * *

Seconds later, an ambulance roared up the street, stopping in front of Mike's home. Quickly, the ambulance driver and an attendant hopped out of the front cab and retrieved a gurney from the back.

"Aw, Mike, I don't need a gurney," Steve protested.

"Now you listen to me, you've been shot and I don't like the looks of that arm either. Did you do something to it when you fell?"

Steve looked down at the wrist that was quickly swelling. "Aw, man," he whispered.

"Up here!" Mike yelled out to the attendants.

"No, wait!" Steve pleaded. "Help me up. I can at least walk to the ambulance." Thinking quickly, he added, "I don't want to cause further problems for you with your neighbors. It's bad enough there was a shooting here, let alone having them see someone carted away on a stretcher."

It was at that moment that Mike took his focus off of Steve and saw the eyes of many of his neighbors peering through their front windows and doors looking terrified at what had just unfolded. "_Ah, the perils of having a cop for a neighbor_," he thought to himself. "All right, all right. No sense in getting the neighbors more stirred up. If they see you walking to the ambulance, that will at least give them some relief. Are you sure about this?"

"Just help me up," Steve said as he held out his good arm for Mike to grab onto.

* * *

Three hours later, Mike paced back and forth in the surgery waiting room at San Francisco General. Upon their arrival, Steve had been swept into an available ER cubicle for triage. Immediately he was hooked to an IV and evaluated for surgery to remove the bullet that was lodged in his lower back. The ER doctor made note of the swollen wrist and ordered an X-ray to be done after the surgery. In the meantime, the wrist was splinted and secured.

Rudy returned to Bryant Street when it was learned that Norm and Officer Webster were among the officers who had nabbed the suspects just a mile away from Mike's home. Brothers Joey and Rick Damon had led the officers on a fairly short and ineffective high speed chase.

After losing control, the pair plowed into two parked cars. Stunned, they attempted to flee. For the second time that day, Norm muttered, _This is bull shit! _and bolted from his car in foot pursuit. Officer Webster joined the detective and in no time, the Damons were tackled and arrested.

* * *

Norm and Webster proudly escorted the pair into a holding cell in the Homicide unit. Realizing where they were, the gravity of the situation hit the Damon brothers. While no one was killed, the pair were quickly charged with two counts of the attempted murder of a police officer. The fact that the pair were being held in the same unit where the would-be murder victims worked only made the situation worse as they were met with the hostile glares of Tanner, Healy and Lessing from outside of their holding cell.

Norm walked over to his desk and only then reached up to touch the stinging sensation he felt in his arm. Lee Lessing walked over and saw the torn material of the detective's sport coat.

"Man, what happened to you? Were you hit?" Lessing asked.

"Ah, it's nothing. Just a scratch," Norm replied.

"You'd better get that looked at. It needs to be documented anyway," Lee implored.

"Yeah, I know," Norm said as he stared down at his desk thinking. "You know, I guess I can't let the kid have all the fun."

"Rudy said Steve was hit, but that it wasn't life threatening. Want me to drive you over to General to have that arm looked at?"

Norm nodded. "Yeah, let's go. We can catch up with Mike then." He chuckled as he added, "I imagine Old Mike has worn a trench into the waiting room floor."

Lee laughed. "Doesn't he always?"


	11. Chapter 11

a/n: Thanks for following this story. The piece was intended to much more serious, resting on the theme of Mike's feelings around his shooting an unarmed man, which was inspired by a high profile and local story in my area. It was originally to be titled "Death by Cop". But then Norm appeared and took over. It then became more light hearted (despite the bad guy's early death) and the title changed to..."The New Norm".

Here you go:

* * *

**Epilogue - Three Weeks Later**

Steve grinned at his female companion across the table as he polished off his slice of raspberry truffle cheesecake.

"Well, I can see you haven't lost your appetite," the young woman remarked as she watched the casually attired off duty detective enjoy his late night dessert.

"Nah, actually, I'm feeling pretty good," Steve responded as he stretched back in the booth and patted his stomach showing his contentment. "The break in my wrist wasn't too bad, so I should be cleared to go back to work at the start of the New Year," he added as he lifted his casted arm.

"That's good, I guess, although I hate the dangers you two face. But at least Mike will be happy for your return. With the exception of Christmas day, he's been grumpy my entire time home. Without you, I think he's off his game," Jeannie responded with a smile. "And I'm just happy you are okay," she added softly.

"Yeah, me too. It could have been worse, but in the end, it all worked out. Mike was cleared by Internal Affairs. After we found the gun that had been linked to two robberies that Damon had committed. The fact that he shucked it before hitting the alley was unfortunate, but it added to the idea that your dad did what he thought was right."

"It worries me that you both have to make such life and death decisions..." Jeannie began.

"It comes with the territory," Steve said almost regretfully as he took a sip of hot tea. Wanting to change the subject, he remembered the rose bush. "Hey, I know it's not really my fault, but I am sorry about your rose bush."

Jeannie smiled, somewhat sadly. "You're right. That wasn't your fault, Steven Keller."

"Your dad has talked about how your mom planted those bushes, but they were overrun by aphids a year or so ago. It was so nice of you to start that tradition again and I'm so sorry that I crushed it."

Jeannie smiled again and took his hand. "It was more than just me starting a tradition. I had taken a cutting from the last rose bush that had been ruined and propagated it. Dad and I kept a special eye on it."

"Oh, no, Jeannie! Now I'm really sorry. So that was a cutting from your mom's plant?" Steve was devastated.

"I said it wasn't your fault and I meant it!" Jeannie said firmly.

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but I will now. Bill Tanner's wife is the green thumb, so I asked her to go by your house after the shooting and try to salvage the rose bush. She said she couldn't, but did take a few cuttings."

Jeannie's eyes lit up. "That is so kind of you!" She reached across the table and touched Steve on the cheek. He blushed and quickly changed the subject.

Do you want anything else?" he asked as he saw Jeannie's empty plate that had previously held three fresh baked cookies.

"No, although I have to admit, this bakery is a great find. The cookies were delicious. How'd you find this place?" she asked.

"Bob's Donuts? Well, sadly, Damon mugged a poor woman out front and she hit her head on the curb and died. We interviewed some of the witnesses here. It seemed like a nice friendly neighborhood place and definitely not deserving of the events that occurred right in front," Steve explained.

"Dad does that..." Jeannie began.

"Does what?" Steve asked.

"He goes back to the neighborhoods where some of his most trying cases were - he wants to see the good in the place instead of just the bad," Jeannie answered.

"I see his point..." Steve started to explain, but he stopped while he peered through the bakery window. He brow furrowed. "What am I seeing?" he whispered to himself.

Jeannie turned around and caught sight of Norm Haseejian. "Hey, isn't that Norm? Wow, I've never seen him in a suit before...and who's that lady he's with?"

Steve raised his eyebrows in curiosity and then reached over and pecked lightly on the glass. Norm looked his way and squinted, then smiled in recognition. He and his date quickly entered the bakery.

"Well!" Norm announced. "Look who's out and about with his boss's daughter?"

Jeannie blushed at the notice.

"How are you, young lady?" Norm asked politely. "May I introduce my friend. Betty? This is Steve, from the department and his _girlfriend, _Jeannie."

Steve rolled his eyes at the inference, but didn't dispute. Instead, he checked out the suit and tie Norm wore and admired the nicely attired woman who appeared to be his date.

Betty nodded her greeting and then caught sight of her windblown hair reflecting from the large plate glass window. "Excuse me for just a minute," she politely asked.

Norm admired his date and watched her walk to the back of the bakery in search of a restroom.

"Aren't you the picture of cleaning out the garage?" Norm teased as he turned back around and looked at Steve, dressed casually in a pullover, blue jeans and boots.

"And aren't you the picture of a Prom King?" Steve retorted as he took in Norm's wide lapelled suit and patterned tie.

"Very funny, kid. Actually, Betty and I are having dinner at Chez Pierre up the block here."

"Fancy..." Steve remarked, extending his pinky as he slurped his tea.

"Steven Keller!" Jeannie scolded humorously.

Norm ignored the young pair and then responded, "Well, I have it on good authority that the ladies like the classy treatment."

"And that means..." Steve led.

"A fancy dinner and then tickets to the opera," Norm responded smugly.

"Opera?! You?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, kid. You should take a page from my friend and look a bit more presentable," Norm teased.

"Your friend, huh? Would I know this friend?" Steve smiled knowing that he himself had rubbed off on Norm.

"Probably. I've been watching. You see, this friend of mine and I had a long talk and he was extolling how women appreciate a fancy date. My term, of course. But then when my friend was laid up in the hospital for a bit, I got to see the line of chicks he had coming out of his room. All those dates where he wore his monkey suit really paid off! You needed to take a number just to see the guy, Jeannie. And that's when I figured it all out."

"Figured what out, Norm?" Jeannie asked.

"It's all about the suit."

"The suit?" Steve questioned with a sigh.

"The suit and the idea of making everything formal. Quality chicks dig quality dates..." Norm reasoned.

Jeannie's eyes had grown large during the conversation. Realizing who Norm's 'friend' was, she offered a playful glare at her companion. "Just how many little 'chickadees' did your friend see during his hospital stay?"

"Oh, enough to make me realize that I was missing out. Short of being in the hospital..." Norm began.

"_I can arrange that,_" Steve muttered under his breath.

"I figure the best way to bring on my A game is to raise the level of my attire," he commented as he looked admiringly at his suit, "and shoot for a high culture main activity for the date. The opera, the theatre, long-haired lecturers... I gotta tell you, Steve, it works like a charm!"

Almost on cue, Betty returned with her hair back in place and the pair departed. "Mustn't be late for the opera," Norm remarked as he departed the bakery.

"A new Norm," Steve muttered in wonder.

"What was that all about?" Jeannie teased. "So you had them lined up out the door, huh?"

"Me?" Steve squeaked as he refocused his attention to his table companion.

"Yeah, you. Don't you think you can fool me, Steve," Jeannie said forcefully.

"Nah, he exaggerates. I had one or two lady visitors. They were, um, nuns, actually from the local parish. Your dad sent them," Steve said as he fumbled around, not entirely clear why he felt suddenly on the spot.

"Uh-huh. And that's a good date to you, huh? All dressed up and somewhere to go," Jeannie remarked and then glanced at her companion's laidback attire.

Steve looked pensively for a quick moment. "Actually, not. My best dates are the ones where I can relax and have fun. I can be casual, have a piece of cake and not worry that my date is scrutinizing my table manners, which I might add are impeccable, even with one arm in a sling."

He then looked into her eyes and smiled. It was now Jeannie's turn to blush.

The end!


End file.
